


Fearless

by RazaraTheFirst



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Cussing, Gen, I'm Bad About That, Markiplier - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paganism, Religion, Sorry Not Sorry, it's not what you're thinking, maybe it is, possible ooc, spirituality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8952547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RazaraTheFirst/pseuds/RazaraTheFirst
Summary: "Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful."Mary ShelleySeveral weeks of curiosity have lead him to this point.  The internet would only explain so far.  If he's caught, it could be the end of his career.  It could mean the end of his relationships with friends and family.  He could become a social outcast, shunned to the fringes of society.With all this doubt, Mark Fischbach is having a hard time deciding what to do.  Does he stay safe and forget ever finding this?Or does he fearlessly embrace the unknown, whatever consequences may come?





	1. Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> "If you're brave enough to dance  
> then you are brave enough to fly!  
> Forget what's right and proper!  
> You won't know until you try!"
> 
> S.J. Tucker, "Firebird's Child"
> 
> Buckle up, people! It's a story I'm a bit nervous to post, but the plot stuck in my brain for days, so here it is!  
> Try to keep an open mind, please?

_Why am I doing this again?_

Mark tightened his grip on the steering wheel.  Though he had parked his car outside a local coffee shop ten minutes earlier, he had yet to get out.  He was just... _nervous_.  What if somebody recognized him?  Sure, he had a hat to hide his distinctive red hair and sunglasses on for good measure, but what if it wasn't enough?  What if a fan recognized his face?

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the wheel even tighter.  He might not know much - yet - but he knew that what he was about to get into might turn him into a social pariah in an instant.  He wanted to believe his fans, his friends, and even his family would accept his choice, but.…

God, the internet horror stories from those who had assumed the same thing, only to find that they were wrong.  So horribly, _horribly_ wrong.

_Why am I doing this again?_

He could always just drive away.  He didn't have to take the risk.  He could keep himself content with simple curiosity.

Mark sighed heavily, knowing he was lying to himself.  He had lost complacency in simple research some time ago.  He wanted to know more.  He wanted to actually get involved, to have everything he had read about - even if it was all vague - for himself.

He had gone through the effort to get to this point, even if it was just an impulsive decision to set up an actual meeting.  _That_ was why he was here.  _That_ was why he couldn't drive away.  The couple had been so accommodating when he reached out, even agreeing to meet in an obscure coffee shop to appease some of his apprehension about being recognized.  They were probably already inside, waiting for him.

Standing them up would be incredibly rude.

Another long moment passed before he forced himself to let go of the steering wheel.  He had to face his doubts.  That was an important part of it, right?  Facing his fears?  Or so the internet had said.  Who knew how reliable that was? 

If there was one thing Mark knew well, it was the internet.  There was no telling what was true or false.  Not when he had nothing to base his findings on.  So few sources were consistent, anyways.  It seemed that everybody had a different take on the subject and how to approach it.

It made it frustratingly hard to learn on his own.

It also made it beautiful and freeing, in a way.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, he finally opened the car door, leaving the only escape he had behind.  He had to do this.  He knew he'd regret it if he didn't.

His heart pounded in his ears as he pulled the door open, grateful when the strong scent of coffee helped clear his head a bit.  He looked around cautiously, noting that only a few people were present.

Who were the right ones, though?  He had never seen their pictures, and they had never seen his, as far as he knew.  He could never be sure about that.  He moved a bit to the side, scanning everybody carefully.  After several minutes, he caught sight of an older couple - late thirties, maybe - in the corner.  Or, rather, the woman's necklace.  A silver circle flanked by a crescent on either side, both facing outwards from the circle, hung on a thin chain around her neck.

 _That_ was something he'd come across time and time again while researching in the little spare time he had.  It was one of the few things that was explained.  He was relieved.  At least they didn't stick out like sore thumbs.

Mark closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and holding it.  He could leave.  He could always go home and forget this whole thing.  He breathed out heavily and walked towards the couple.  He had come this far.  He could at least talk to them.

When he was halfway to their table, the woman glanced up at him curiously.  Following the instructions they had all agreed upon in the previous emails, Mark raised his right hand just barely high enough for her to see and folded his ring and middle finger down over his palm, folding his thumb to rest over them while his index and pinky finger were straight up in the air.

The woman smiled, said something to her partner, and stood, her friend following suit.  Both were looking at him now, smiling warmly.  Mark couldn't help but smile back as he finally reached them.  The man held out his hand first, still smiling.  "Merry meet, friend.  I'm Alan.  It's nice to finally speak to you in person."

Mark took Alan's hand, slightly confused at the greeting.  "I'm Mark.  Um...merry meet?" Mark added, just to get a taste for the words.  
Alan's smile broadened at Mark's awkward use of the phrase.

The woman reached for his hand now, a mischievous light in her eyes as she took his hand.  "Merry meet, Mark.  I'm Debra." She then raised an eyebrow.  "So, you want to be a witch?"

Mark glanced around nervously, in case she had been heard.  Luckily, no one seemed to be paying attention to them, though.  He lowered his voice a bit before answering.  "I'm just curious about Wicca."

The couple started laughing.  "Of course, of course," Alan responded.  He gestured at the table.  "Please, sit."

Mark smiled again, feeling slightly more comfortable.  At least these people were friendly.  He sat down beside Alan as the couple sat again, clearly still amused.

"Want something?  Coffee, maybe tea?" Debra asked.  When Mark shook his head, she shrugged a bit, picking up her own cup and sipping it, studying him.

"Relax," Alan suggested beside him.  "You're among friends." After Mark nodded, he continued.  "You wouldn't have contacted us if you were just curious."

"I couldn't find anything with real substance online," Mark defended himself.

"There are plenty of sources online, dear," Debra responded.  "You just have to know what you're looking for."

"If I already know it, then what's the point?"

"There is always more to know about things you think you already know," Alan answered.  "I don't think you came here to debate, though."

Mark shook his head. 

"Then why are you here?" Alan continued.  "Like I said, you went through the trouble of finding us.  Why?  What were you hoping to find?"

"We're you hoping we would teach you how to use magic to curse your enemies?" Debra cut in, wiggling her fingers ominously.

"Maybe cast a love spell on an unsuspecting victim?" Alan continued, clearly still amused.

Mark frowned.  The magical aspect of the neo-pagan religion he had stumbled upon a few months back in a bout of Google-fueled late nights when he had trouble sleeping was something the many "experts" of the internet had barely touched on.  The ones who did never agreed.  He had no clue what it was, how it worked, or if it was even possible.  After a moment with these thoughts, he shook his head.  "No."

"So you weren't drawn in by the lure of darker powers?" Debra questioned.  When Mark shook his head again, she grinned.  "Good.  Under no circumstance should one ever harm or control another." After a pause, she added, "I might ask you to get professional help if you had said you wanted all of that."

Appreciating the sentiment, Mark laughed a bit. He had never been one to hurt another.  He was a self-admitted sweetheart, after all.  But that still left the question:  Why was he here?  Why had he arranged this secret meeting with the leaders of a local Wiccan coven?

"Why did it feel so _peaceful?"_

The question was out of Mark's mouth before he could even register that he had thought it.  For a second, Alan looked like he was going to talk, but Mark suddenly had more to say.  "Why did reading about this whole concept of gods, goddesses, and revering nature just…? It made me feel so calm.  Why?"

Both Alan and Debra were quiet for a moment, considering the outburst.  They finally looked at each other, as if silently communicating something, before looking back at Mark.  Debra took his hand in hers, a few bracelets on her wrist jingling faintly.  "Because Wicca is a peaceful religion.  More so, maybe it spoke to you on a spiritual level, as if trying to call to you.  Something that soothes the spirit is something worth looking into, even if it's only for a brief moment.  Or, perhaps, it's just you.  Maybe you want some spiritual stability so badly that you're willing to latch on to the first religion that catches your attention."

"I'm not a religious kind of guy," Mark responded.  The sudden talk about spirituality was making him a bit uncomfortable.  It wasn't something he ever discussed with anybody. 

"That's fine," Alan responded kindly.  "We're not here to tell you what you should and shouldn't believe.  What's right for us might not be right for you, and so on."

Mark furrowed his brow, confused.  "You're not?"

"Nope," Alan confirmed, smiling again.  "Unlike some religions, we don't believe there is only one right way to do things.  Your path is your own.  Nobody can tell you how to walk it."

Mark nodded a bit.  "But I'm still curious about all of this."

"Then visit us," Debra answered cheerfully.  She grabbed a napkin and fished a pen out of her purse.  After scribbling on the napkin, she handed it to Mark.  "We meet twice a month, unless there's a sabbat," she explained, gesturing at the napkin.  "Next Friday is when we're meeting again.  If you're still interested then, come and watch."

Mark nodded, looking at the address scrawled on the paper, along with the time of the meeting.  He had no idea if he would actually go, but having something so concrete in his hands made him feel a bit excited. 

"May I?" Alan cut into his thoughts, gently taking the napkin from Mark and the pen from Debra.  He wrote a few more things before handing the items back to their respective owners.  "You might try reading these, too.  They should help a bit."

Mark nodded again, now noting the few book titles and authors written down.  He looked at the couple again, grinning.  "Thank you."

The couple stood up, cups in their hands.  Mark stood with them, sensing that the meeting was now over.  He shook both their hands and thanked them again, still smiling.  He was treated to another unfamiliar phrase - "merry meet, merry part and merry meet again" - before the couple left him alone with his thoughts in the shop.

Mark read the napkin over and over again, feeling that peace he had grown accustomed to filling his stomach again.  He could learn everything now.  This was at his fingertips.  If he really wanted to pursue Wicca, he had a tangible source now. 

Did he really want to go through with it, though?  What would his friends say?  His family?  Would they think he was joining a cult?  Would they accuse him of worshipping Satan, even though he didn't even exist within Wiccan philosophy?

Would they hate him for it?

…Did they even need to know?  He could keep it a secret, like this meeting.…

Mark sighed and stood, putting the napkin in his pocket before ordering some coffee and leaving.  As he drove home, he decided not to focus on it at the moment.  He had videos to record and upload, and he didn't want to disappoint the fans by making them wait.

 


	2. In the Broom Closet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s get down and dirty, shall we? Go outside. Find a green patch of grass, a dark, rich, root-buckled swath of earth, a stone formation, or a tree, and touch it. Rub your hands across it. Sit down and feel the weight of your body on the land. Breathe deeply and allow the earth to hold you. This is where you belong. Welcome home.”
> 
> Timothy Roderick, Wicca: A Year and a Day: 366 Days of Spiritual Practice in the Craft of the Wise

An uneventful day (if anything he did anymore could be considered "uneventful") bled into a relatively quiet night, allowing Mark to think in some peace about what had happened this morning. 

He had decided to download a couple of the books Alan had recommended onto his tablet to read at his leisure, but had yet to decide if he was going to attend any kind of gathering.  He had a bit over a week to decide, after all.  Maybe he would read the books and find that he didn't want to pursue the path.  It was a real possibility.

Mark flicked his way through a few pages of the first book, a bit fascinated by the theoretical history of Witchcraft.  After a bit of reading this, though, Mark switched books.  He wasn't in the mood to go too in depth about origins at the time.

The second and third books started out with a basic summary of why it was written:  the authors would be explaining the Goddess or redefining the God outside of the Abrahamic religions.  _That_ sounded like a series of theological concepts he was too tired to deal with.  Again, he switched books.

The final book Mark had downloaded started with the story of Cerridwen's cauldron, which contained a brew that bestowed her apprentice with knowledge of life and death, magic and love, and great wisdom.  The comparison was drawn that Mark himself was standing at the cauldron now.  All he had to do was have the courage to drink. 

A list of supplies for the next thirty days kept Mark's attention.  Apparently, this would be a book of daily lessons.  A few candles, some incense, a few herbs, and a couple of miscellaneous items were listed under the days they would be needed.  He figured he could get them later.  There had to be a shop in Los Angeles that would have what he needed.  Making a mental note to go back to the list later, Mark turned to the first lesson.

Mark was immediately greeted with a very basic overview of Wicca:  a shamanic religion that revered nature in all its glory.  Alas, the modern culture facilitated a lost connection with nature, since many people didn't live and breathe agriculture anymore.  So, reasoned the author, he would fix the problem with the first lesson.

Mark was to go outside.

Right now. 

It was noted that the time and weather made no difference, unless it would be dangerous to his health.  Apparently, Wiccans were supposed to be okay with everything, since it was all a part of the natural cycle of the earth.

Mark glanced at the clock on his night stand, sighing when he saw that it was just past midnight.  Ethan and Tyler would be asleep, but he should be, too.  Maybe he could go explore his backyard tomorrow.  He read the remainder of the lesson, then sighed again and moved to the edge of his bed.  He had homework.  He was not only supposed to go outside, but he was supposed to _meditate_ there.  Send out roots to connect with nature, other people, _everything._  Everything connected together in the webs of life, he was supposed to "touch" with these imagined roots.  He was supposed to examine where his connections were strong or weak, then spend the day acting with this knowledge.

He couldn't do that during the day.  For one, he was always busy with videos.  More importantly, though, was that he would get questions on questions from his friends if they saw him sitting very still in the middle of his yard for a while.

_I don't actually have to do it,_ Mark thought to himself.  _Nobody would know but me._

Mark rubbed his eyes a bit and put on his glasses before getting up.  He would know he didn't do it.  He could at least make an effort.  That way, if he didn't like it, he could at least say that he tried.

A bit of movement in the dark caught Mark's eye.  Glancing at her, he saw Chica looking at him, her tail wagging slowly as she sat up on her bed.  _Where are we going?_ she seemed to say. 

Mark smiled and stood, moving to rub her ears a bit before he turned on the light.  Chica got up and followed, her tail wagging.  Mark sighed, but rubbed her ears again.  "You coming with me, Chica-bica?" Chica pressed herself against Mark's legs eagerly.  Mark grinned.  At least he could say he was taking Chica out if he was caught. 

The house was as quiet as he expected, since everybody was asleep now.  _Good,_ Mark thought as he opened the back door.  Chica trotted out past him, eagerly sniffing everything.  Mark rolled his eyes.  She had to know the yard perfectly by now.  He crossed the yard to the tree and sat down with his back against it.  Taking a deep breath, Mark closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, listening to the quiet sounds of the night.  Chica eventually curled up against him, and Mark rubbed her ears absently.  The repetitive motion stilled his mind enough to allow him to focus on the task at hand.

Mark took another deep breath.  Then, as he exhaled, he imagined sending roots into the earth.

* * *

 

"Mark?  I think I did it."

Mark glanced over at Ethan, glad for a distraction from the half-edited video on his own computer.  Ethan was watching him, the potential final edit of a video on the screen by him.  Mark got up and moved over to Ethan, once again aware of an odd sensation.  After he had finished with his root meditation the night before - it was the closest he had come so far to successfully achieving a fully meditative state, anyways; his mind has wandered a bit - he found that the imaginary roots he had sent out created a very real sensation on the bottom of his feet.  If he focused on it, he was even aware of the "roots" extending a few inches down into the ground. 

It was strange, if nothing else.

Mark watched the finished edit, aware that Ethan was watching his face.  After it ended, Mark smiled.  "Looks good," he said, looking at the younger man.

Ethan grinned proudly.  Mark felt a warm, somewhat-tingling sensation surge through him, settling below his ribs.  Mark frowned as Ethan put final touches on the finished video.  He wasn't about to have more intestinal troubles, was he?  He focused on the sensation, worried.  It almost felt like it was... _spinning._  A ball in his abdomen, spinning slowly. 

Although it didn't feel like the times he had ended up in the hospital - hallelujah! - Mark was still a bit worried as he went back to his computer.  He worked a bit on his own project, but he wasn't paying too much attention to the video.  He was waiting for the odd spinning ball to start hurting. 

It didn't, though.  After a while, the feeling grew less intense unless Mark focused on it, like the "roots."

Relieved, Mark started to focus fully on his editing, having to go back and change a few things he had absently done while he was distracted.  Once he was satisfied, he left the video to upload.

* * *

 

The weird spinning ball of probable-death varied in intensity throughout the rest of the day.  It particularly flared up when someone was nearby and excited or emotional about something.  He had a sneaking suspicion that it was connected to his metaphorical roots somehow, but he couldn’t prove it.

Whatever was happening, it was starting to annoy Mark.  It sometimes made him feel like he was nauseous when he knew he wasn't. 

Mark tried not to think about it as he browsed the seemingly endless collection of dried herbs that hung on the wall of the new age store he had found on Google.  He had told his friends he was going to look for some video ideas on his own, allowing him to visit the place without alerting the other men that something was up. 

“Can I help you find anything?”

Snapped out of his thoughts, Mark looked over to see the young shop owner watching him.  She was probably no older than he was, but she had an air of peace and calm about her that he knew he didn’t have. 

“Yeah,” Mark answered, glancing at the list he had made.  “I can’t find myrrh resin.”

“That’s over here,” she said, gesturing over to the incense display.  She led him over to the shelves, getting a small bag labeled “myrrh” and handing it to him.  “You’ll need some charcoal and a censer, too,” she explained, gesturing to a few things beside the loose incense packets. 

Mark frowned a bit.  He had only ever dealt with sticks of incense.  “How does that work?”

“Well, you put sand or something into the bottom of your censer to protect it from the heat,” she explained, brushing some of her red hair out of her face.  “Then, you light one side of your charcoal disk and wait for it to turn gray, so you know it’s on fire.  Then, you sprinkle the resin or herb onto it to use it as an incense.”  She raised a finger, smiling.  “Be careful, though; it makes quite a bit more smoke than the sticks or cones.”

Mark nodded.  That made sense.  “Okay.  Do you have any taper candles about five inches or so long?”

She nodded, grinning and gesturing to a small display by the counter.  “Right there.  If you don’t mind, may I ask what you need with all of this?”

Mark glanced around, but the only people he saw were browsing, too.  He had a feeling that he was among friends here.  “There’s a book,” he explained vaguely. “It has a supply list for the next thirty days, but I don’t know if I’m going to finish it.”

The woman nodded, following as he went over to the candles.  “You’re getting everything, though?”

Mark nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed at her question as he gathered a few candles of different colors.  “Just in case.”

She nodded again, smiling slightly.  “You know that the book takes a year to do, right?”

“I know,” Mark answered.  “But I’m only preparing for the next thirty days.”

“Have you done the first one?” she asked.  When Mark nodded, she smiled.  “Are you having trouble with your chakra?”

Mark frowned.  “Chakra?”  He had heard the term before, but he knew very little about them.

“Yeah.”  She pointed right below her rib cage, exactly the spot where that weird ball was spinning inside Mark.  “Your solar plexus chakra.”

Surprised, Mark nodded.  “It keeps…spinning, I guess.  It’s kind of nauseating.”

She nodded again.  “You need to ground, then.”

More confused, Mark didn’t say anything.

“You’re really new to this, aren’t you, Mark?” she asked, watching his face.

Mark felt a surge of panic.  “How do you know that?”

“My son watches your videos all the time,” she explained.  “Don’t worry, though.  I have a feeling that you’re in the broom closet, so you don’t have to worry about me telling anybody that you were here.”

Mark laughed a bit.  “In the broom closet?”

“Yes,” she responded.  “A hidden witch.  You’re not out in the open about it.”

“I’m not a witch,” Mark answered.  “I don’t think I’m going to be.”

She smiled a bit, amusement clear in her body language.  “Of course.  So, take a few deep breaths.  I’m going to teach you how to get that chakra to stop spinning, as you described it.”

Relieved, Mark nodded.  “Okay….Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

She smiled.  “I like most everybody to call me Sage.”

Mark smiled back at her.  “Thanks, Sage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you may have noticed, this will be slow to update. :P Sorry. But it will be finished. I tried not to make this chapter so boring, but it didn't work. :( Sorry.


	3. Circling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Desire creates a starting point. Without it, no magic can be put into action.”
> 
> Lawren Leo, Dragonflame: Tap Into Your Reservoir of Power Using Talismans, Manifestation, and Visualization

Mark had fallen into a routine over the past several days.  He would wake up, practice the meditation and grounding techniques Sage had taught him, and work on his videos until night, when he would read a bit, do whatever his daily lesson was, practice his meditating again, and go to bed.  He was following his lessons, and they were mostly journaling about questions lately.  He had a bit of fun on the third one, in which he had to etch the emotion that summed up his more negative thoughts on words like “witchcraft” and the like, burn it until it melted completely, and bury it in his back yard, but that was the closest he had gotten to anything besides thinking and meditation. 

It had lifted a weight off his shoulders that he didn’t even know he had, so he supposed that it was effective.

He ended up playing with his solar plexus chakra again some days later.  In fact, he was supposed to take the strange tingles from the chakra and expand his awareness to feel them everywhere else in his body.

He couldn’t do that one yet.  The left half of his body – his non-dominant arm and leg, especially – always remained still.  This was normal, apparently.  He was supposed to try a few times a day until he could feel it everywhere. 

Mark was glad he had learned to ground out the excess energy.  Sometimes, he had trouble turning the tingling feeling off, so to speak.  And, now that he knew the term “grounding,” Google actually _did_ yield better results than just searching for “meditation.”  There were several techniques, it turned out, and he found that a few worked better than the one Sage had taught him.

Visualizing that he was a tree didn’t always work, but visualizing that he was in a waterfall that washed everything away worked very well.

When he was finished with the lesson of the day, he read the other books a bit.  Mark was surprised to find that not only were things described in great detail, but that the authors took the time to draw parallels to scientific theories.  Explanation for the Goddess and God?  Jungian psychology boasted of Archetypes that helped explain a bit.  Auras?  An experiment in the early 1900s actually proved that humans gave off a kind of “radiation.”  The Gaia Theory was something new to Mark, and he found that one interesting, too.  In fact, he was learning more science here than he ever had listening in high school and college.  All theoretical, of course, but still something worth thinking about.  Especially now that he was starting to feel energy that he had no idea existed within himself.

This, of course, led to more questions.  He knew for a fact that thousands of ancient gods and goddesses existed, so…who were the right ones?  He had read that they were _all_ right, but why?  And how did he choose who was right for him, if anyone?  And the tingling energy inside him:  what was he supposed to do with it?  He knew it had something to do with the “magic” that he had read about, but how?  If it was locked inside himself, how could it affect anything outside of him?  Where was he supposed to go from here?

It was with this swirling multitude of questions in mind that he pulled up to park in front of a home in a neighborhood a few streets down from his own.  If he had known a coven meeting was happening so close to where he lived, then he might have visited sooner, if only to slake his curiosity.  A few cars were already there, and it gave Mark pause.  What if someone recognized him, like Sage had?  Would they be as discrete as she seemed to be?

Like before, he reasoned that he had already come this far.  He might as well go all the way.  He had already lied to Tyler and Ethan about where he was going, so they would be suspicious if he returned home early. 

Or would they?  He could always say that he cut his long, soul-searching jog short.

Mark sighed.  He knew himself better than that.  He was going to stay, and he knew it.

Getting out of his car, Mark walked cautiously up to the front door.  He had no idea what he was about to walk into, if he was honest with himself.  Would it be similar to mass in a church?  He had never liked that.  It was so… _boring_.  He was just a bystander there, watching a priest talk to God.  His mind had never failed to wander there.  He hoped that this wouldn’t be the same.  There was a reason he had stopped going to church after his father died.

Mark knocked gently on the door. 

After a moment, Debra opened the door and grinned.  “Hello, Mark.  Come in, come in.”  She moved to the side, gesturing for him to come in.  Mark stepped into the home, trying not to stare at Debra’s attire.  She definitely looked like a witch now.  She was wearing a long, black ceremonial robe, a hood pulled up over her head.  In the living room, Mark counted five others, each wearing similar robes.  A few were green or blue, but most were dark, earthy colors, like brown or black.  Alan’s was a dark green with a light Celtic knot on the back, and his hood was down as he laughed at something another coven member had said as rather upbeat music Mark had never heard before played quietly in the background.

Mark glanced over at Debra.  “Was I supposed to wear a robe for this?”

Debra grinned.  “I didn’t expect you to have any of your own.  If you’re going to be in the circle, though, I have a few spares that will probably fit you.”

“In the circle?” Mark repeated stupidly.  “I wouldn’t know what I’m doing.”

“There’s no better way to learn than by doing,” Debra responded.  “Unless you just want to watch.  That’s fine, too.”

Mark hesitated, weighing his options, before nodding a bit.  “I think I’d like to be in the circle, if you don’t mind.” 

“Follow me, then,” she said, brushing gently past him.  “I’ll explain some ground rules to you as we go.”

* * *

 

Mark noted that the robe he was wearing now was a bit different than the one he had worn when he was “summoning” Cthulhu.  The brown robe wasn’t designed to be a costume.  It was designed to function as an actual article of clothing, if only occasionally.  It was quite comfortable, actually.  If he wasn’t wearing clothes under it, nobody would know!  Not that he wasn’t wearing his clothes at the moment.  The robe wasn’t actually his, after all. 

“Now, don’t you look like a proper witch?” Debra declared when Mark joined the group back in the living room.  He noted that the furniture had been pushed to the corners to make room for an altar table in the center.  It had candles, a couple of bowls, incense, a plate of dinner rolls and a cup of what he hoped wasn’t wine, a double-edged knife that Mark recognized as an athame, and two statues.  One was of a man with antlers, and the other was literally Botticelli’s _Birth of Venus_.  God and Goddess idols, representations that were supposed to keep them focused on deity.  On the outside of the group were four unlit candles, one in each cardinal direction.  Alan was trotting around the room clockwise, sprinkling water in the corners and murmuring something Mark didn’t recognize.

The other coveners grinned at him.  Mark noted with a slight start that he was definitely the youngest person in the room.  Most everybody was around Debra’s and Alan’s age, except for a couple of elderly women.  Debra shooed him into the ring that they had formed around the altar, casually inserting him between two women.  She then went over to Alan, who was still sprinkling water all over the place.

The women on his right offered her hand immediately.  “Hello, dear,” she said, a slight southern accent coming through her words.  “I’m Rowena.”

“Mark,” he said, taking her hand.  “Is Rowena, like, your real name, or…?”

“That’s my craft name,” she explained, laughing a bit.  “You don’t need to know my real name.  It’s easier to stay hidden that way.”

Mark almost slapped himself.  That was a good idea.  Why hadn’t he looked more closely into the lesson on craft names? 

The woman on his left made no indication that she was going to talk to him.  Instead, she had her eyes closed.  She was clearly meditating already. 

Alan and Debra joined the group, stepping into the center of the ring they formed.  “Everybody, close your eyes and focus on your breathing, please,” Alan began, setting his bowl of water down.

Mark was introduced to a few new concepts in the meditation Alan led.  There was grounding, of course.  Mark had gotten a bit good at that.  Then, there were centering and merging, which he had no idea existed.  Being talked through it definitely helped, though.  Connecting grounded power to his own and then to the others in the circle was something he wouldn’t have figured out on his own.  It was interesting, though, feeling what he could only assume were the energies of the others.  It was so different from his own tingling.  It was warm and cool at the same time, equally excited and calm.  It was _everybody_ in that room.

It was almost overwhelming.

Once Alan finished leading the meditation, Debra grinned.  “Welcome, everybody.  Tonight, we gather to honor the full moon.”  She gestured at Mark.  “And we welcome a new face into our esbat ceremony this evening, as well.”

Mark waved a bit awkwardly at everybody.  Where had his normal confidence gone?  He wasn’t sure.  Maybe the spiritual nature of the situation was stopping him from being as bombastic as he usually was.  This wasn’t about him, after all.

The next several moments were spent blessing the four elements represented by some of the items on the altar.  A bowl of water for water, of course, salt for earth, both of which were mixed together, and lit incense for air and fire.  And, once that was finished, Alan took a sword – an actual _sword_ ; how had Mark not noticed it before – and walked around the entire group clockwise, the sword tip pointed down and almost touching the carpet.  A couple of coven members stepped forward and took up the bowl of salt water and incense, sprinkling water and wafting the smoke around as they followed Alan.  Once they all three made the full circle, they replaced the items on the altar.  The two went back to their spots in the ring while Debra nodded.  “The Circle is cast,” she said.  “We are now between worlds.” 

 _Between worlds?_   That was not what Mark was expecting.  He filed that away into his growing list of questions.  He knew he wasn’t supposed to step out of the Circle without opening it, but he didn’t think they were anywhere other than a living room.

Following the lead of the others, Mark turned towards the east, then south, then west, then north, then east again, as the candles that marked the quarters were lit and something called “guardians” were called.  Ceremonial knives were drawing pentagrams in the air by the candles, summoning something.  Then came the part that Mark was not expecting:  calling the gods down into the sacred Circle they had cast.  At first, Mark didn’t think much of it.  It was just a part of the ceremonies, right?  However, as the two candles were lit before the statues – silver for the Goddess and gold for the God – and Debra and Alan verbally welcomed the gods into the space, along with everybody else, Mark felt a palpable shift in the energies around him.  Certainly, he was still feeling everybody’s energies, but now, he felt something else.  Like something… _divine_ had entered the room and demanded that everybody knew its power, as well as stirring within himself.

 _Holy hell, they’re real!_ Mark thought, shivering a bit.  He hadn’t expected them to actually show up and basically announce their presence to him and everybody else.  He certainly hadn’t experience anything like that in church!

The ceremony continued on, as if everybody was used to this feeling.  They had a basic bread and ale ceremony, in which the dinner rolls and cup of what turned out to be juice was passed around so everybody could receive a blessing.  After that, Debra passed around small bits of paper and a few pens.  “So, tonight will be about manifesting something you desire,” she explained.  “I want you to take a moment to just think to yourself about what you want, then visualizing what it would be like to have it.  If you’ve never done this before, then start small and think realistically.”

 _Start small,_ Mark thought to himself.  What did he want?  He thought about recent events, and almost snorted at the thought that came up. 

_A few dollars off that steam game I found a while ago would be nice._

It seemed so petty to be asking for something like that.  He could ask for so much more!  However….

Debra _had_ said to start small, and he didn’t know if it would even work, so….

Mark jotted it down on his paper, folding it in half quickly.  He imagined himself playing it, thinking about how much fun it looked, and owning it for himself.  He was sure that the others were likely asking for bigger, less frivolous things, but Mark found himself not caring.  This was more of an experiment, he decided.  He just wanted to see if this worked.

On the altar, Alan had made a small fire in what Mark was amused to see was a small cauldron.  One by one, as their names were called, the coven members walked up to the altar, held their small paper over the fire until they couldn’t anymore, and dropped it into a small bowl nearby to let it burn completely.  As Mark watched, Debra nudged him.  “When you get up there,” she said quietly, “and light the paper on fire, imagine that it’s emitting a white light until it burns away completely, okay?”

Mark nodded.  He had no idea why that would matter, but he would do it. 

When it was finally his turn, Mark very cautiously approached the altar.  The feeling of divinity was stronger here, as if the gods were inhabiting the statues.  Mark felt compelled to apologize for asking for something so simple, but he held back.  Instead, he held the paper over the fire until the corner lit up.  He held the image that it was emitting white light, even when he had to drop it in the bowl to keep himself from being burned.  He felt a shift in the energies inside him as it burned completely away.  Suddenly, he was shaking.  His legs felt weak, and his head spun.  He recognized this feeling anywhere.

 _Wonderful first impression I’m making, passing out in their home,_ he thought as darkness overwhelmed him completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was something.  
> Fun fact: I actually passed out when I first did that one. It was a lesson well learned, to be sure. Anyways, until next time, enjoy. :P

**Author's Note:**

> Braving for incoming rants against Wicca/Pagans! Note: I'll ignore them, but you can try. If you're not somebody who is particularly picky about religion or open minded/accepting about others, I hope you enjoyed it. :) There's more to come.


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